Planning the Riding Season

The list of chores grows daily as we steadily stroll our way into the season of productivity. The hotbeds await their spring allotment of manure. The seasonal cold loving greens are ready to be sown. Seeds of tomatoes and peppers whisper reminders that soon they will need to be tucked into the soil before springing to life in the kitchen nursery.
There’s a root cellar calling for my aide with neglected shelves that are long past due for a cleaning. The tack room is in disarray from the winter fight with a fatigue. Saddles and harness need washing and oiling and the feed room is long past due for a good washing. 

Motivation stirs within me, creating heat from deep inside. I always find the energy of spring a surprising treat, rescuing me from the cold darkness of winter as it’s about to swallow me whole. As I age, I remember that energy, like everything else in life, comes and goes with the seasons. The older I get, the more knowing this ebb and flow brings comfort to me in the down days of winter’s gloom. 
 
Sweet and dangerous, I find the energy of spring. Over-use it and I suffer the body’s consequences. Use it for the wrong tasks and I watch it wither away as quickly as it came. I know what I should be doing with this surplus of hot spirit, but that’s not how I crave to spend it.
For decades I have tried to work against my heart’s wishes and pushed all my exuberance into my brains shoulds. Every year, the smoldering surge of spring vitality asphyxiates nearly as fast as it erupts. The secret fanning the flame I discovered is that if I desire with this potential, the excitement and joy of living life, it fuels the fire to do more. 

The garden is the most important piece of my lifestyle. It offers me a reprieve from the bombardment of chemical laden foods, a newly discovered trigger for my body’s lengthening list of irritations. Having a surplus of high quality chemical free produce outside the front door makes saving money a pleasurable, yet healthy experience. My mental health thrives from the blissful daily meanderings through the beds as I graze on fresh peas and tender herbs. During the winter, when my body feels like it will never recover its strength, I find peace in knowing that if I never ride again, my horses are worth keeping because without them my garden would fail, and thus so would I. 

The root cellar holds the canned goods and over-wintered potatoes that carry my delicate body more comfortably through the barren months. The hotbeds hold the vast greens that are to be eaten, canned, dried and powered to enjoy throughout the year. They must be planted with enough time to mature before the heat of the year forces them bolt into uselessness. There is much to be done if I want to live a life that supports my over-sensitive body. All of it crucial to every aspect of my health. 

As my spirit steams with passion, I let my mind wander into daydreams of gardening chores, only to find the flicker of my flame start to slowly fade. There is nothing I desire more than to live a normal healthy life as an active horse woman, but sowing seeds and cleaning the root cellar is not what my heart truly desires. 

My heart lies with the horses. I let my mind wander to the next adventure and feel the flame of life’s passion grow stronger with every thought. 
 
Bubbling with excitement, I start plotting ways to milk a few extra minutes from already full days. A flicker of doubt crosses my mind. The first thing we’ll be working on is conditioning, a task I often find myself pushing too hard and too fast for my overly-opinionated body. Countless times I have committed to a schedule, giving each horse a specific day, only to let them down because my physical being couldn’t keep up with the demands, leaving me riding the rollercoaster of desire, disappointment and depression.

My mind thrives on structure and plans. Ready to get off of the rollercoaster, I have decided to change my approach. Most of my imaginative energy is spent drafting and organizing life in hopes of creating a more agreeable world. There was a time I believed a schedule was the most constructive method the achieving my goals with the horses, dedicating each day to a specific task with a specific horse. Then, time and time again, my body let me down and back into the spiral of disappointment and depression I would go. The flame of life’s passion slowly fizzling out. 

Trying to trick myself into believing that after 40-ish years of my health giving me grief that somehow this time it will be different only establishes my seat on that rollercoaster. This year we’re getting off that crazy ride, kissing the downward spiral of disappointment and depression goodbye and setting up a fun rotation. Tonka, then Punkin, then an outing together, and repeat during periods my body agrees on exercise over rest. 

There’s going to be days in bed with migraines and violent muscle pain from trying new things or wearing my helmet funny. Admitting to myself that this is reality, and it’s never going away, is not giving up or showing weakness. It’s allowing myself to heal from being daring enough to enjoy life despite knowing it might end in a debt of pain. I grant myself permission to rewrite what it looks like to be a healthy, active horsewoman and live a life that fuels my spirit’s fire. Even if that means doing things that may not make sense to others. This is my life. This is my story to write.